‘What did you do when you left the card game, Mr Crowe?’ Hersch sipped his tea, grimaced and reached for the sugar bowl. Using the tiny silver tongs he dropped another sugar lump into the cup.
‘How do you expect me to remember after so long?’ Crowe laughed as though the question was a joke but betrayed his tension when he eased three fingers between his neck and his collar. ‘I-I think I stood at the rail for a while and smoked a cigarette.’
His eyes darted between Hersch and the Captain, sliding over Bunny as if he were of no interest. He lifted his hands from the arms of his chair and let them fall back again. ‘I-I think I stood at the rail for a while and smoked a cigarette.’
‘You think, or you did?’ The detective’s spoon clicked rhythmically against the china, his steady gaze on Crowe’s face. ‘You also said that you saw Mr Parnell going into Hester Smith’s cabin.’
‘Did I? Ah, yes, I remember now.’ Crowe rolled his eyes. ‘Look, we’ve already been through all this.’ He pushed a hand through his hair, cutting grooves into the liberally applied pomade. ‘It could have been that old biddy’s cabin, I cannot say for certain. What difference does it make?’ He tugged up his sleeve and ostentatiously peered at his watch. ‘I really don’t see the point of this, so if you don’t mind, I’ll be going.’ He slapped his palms against the arms of his chair, and pushed himself to his feet.
‘Sit down,’ the German ordered, his voice a growl.
‘Why the devil should I? You’ve no right to interrogate me,’ Crowe blustered.
Flora swallowed. She gave Bunny a half-fearful glance but he only shrugged. Flora was about to interrupt, when the door swung open again and Officer Martin entered with another crewman Flora recognized as the wireless operator. Crofts strode forwards as if he was on a parade ground, coming to an abrupt halt beside the captain’s chair where he performed a curt double step and stared straight ahead, his cap tucked beneath one elbow.
Crowe froze in a half-crouch, his lips bloodless.
‘This looks like an interesting new development,’ Bunny whispered. ‘Crowe seems about to faint.’
Flora shushed him, her confidence in the German fully restored.
‘This young man has an interesting story to tell,’ Hersch helped himself to a biscuit from the tray, demolishing it in one mouthful.
‘Seaman Crofts?’ Captain Gates addressed the crewman. ‘Do you recognize this gentleman?’
The sailor flicked a look at Crowe and away again, then went back to studying the wall. ‘Yes, sir, he’s Mr Augustus Crowe.’
Crowe stood and took a step toward the door. He gazed around the library as though he weighed up the chance of escape and decided it might be futile. ‘Now, look here!’ Beads of sweat appeared on Crowe’s brow and he held himself rigid, betraying his fear. ‘Are you going to take the word of a kid against mine?’
‘It depends entirely on what the kid says, Mr Crowe.’ Hersch gestured for Seaman Crofts to continue.
Crowe shrugged, with a hint of his earlier bravado and sank onto his seat.
Flora bit her lip to hide a smile, admiring of the detective’s calm handling of the situation. Whatever the sailor had to say would definitely not be a waste of anyone’s time. She settled back in her seat and prepared to enjoy what happened next.
‘Well, sir.’ The sailor cleared his throat. ‘Mr Crowe asked me to deposit some banknotes in the ship’s safe.’
‘Was there anything unusual about this request?’ Hersch asked with all the confidence of someone who knew the answer.
A flicker of fear entered Crowe’s eyes and he hunched further into his seat, but this time remained silent.
‘No, Sir, except—’ Crofts swallowed. ‘He paid me ten dollars to change the date on the receipt slip to that of the day we sailed.’
‘You didn’t think that strange?’ Hersch persisted, still not looking at Crowe.
‘Not at the time, no.’ Crofts’ confidence seemed to grow at the captain’s calm acceptance of his answers. ‘I didn’t connect it to the man who died. Not then. Everyone accepted it was an accident until Mr Hersch told me Mr Parnell had been murdered.’
‘Now, see here, I don’t have to listen to this.’ Crowe’s tone was threatening, but his lower lip trembled as if he was on the verge of tears.
‘And how much did Mr Crowe lodge in the safe?’ Captain Gates asked, ignoring Crowe completely, who had reverted to massaging his forehead with the fingers of one hand.
‘Five thousand dollars, Sir,’ Seaman Crofts replied. ‘Three thousand in large banknotes with the banker’s ribbon still on them. The rest was loose, in smaller denominations.’
‘Got him,’ Bunny chuckled.
Flora gasped. While she and Eloise had searched Parnell’s cabin, Crowe had already taken the money. Then a thought struck her. Had Eloise known?
‘Quite a coincidence,’ Hersch said with menacing calm. ‘The exact amount Mr Parnell was alleged to have in his possession on Saturday evening.’
‘You may go, Crofts.’ The captain inclined his head in curt dismissal.
Seaman Crofts threw him a fearful glance, turned and almost ran from the room, closely followed by Officer Martin.
‘Damn you, you’ve got it all wrong. Crowe flung out of his chair but between the table and the two men there was nowhere for him to go. ‘Surely you don’t think I killed Parnell? Crowe protested as the two crewmen left the library. ‘I’m not going to stay here and listen to nonsense.’ He made a feeble attempt to leave, but Bunny and the Captain blocked his way.
Flora’s eyes widened as Crowe raised his fists as though he would attack one or both of them, then thought better of it.
Hersch slammed him back into his seat. ‘Don’t attempt that again, Crowe, and mind your language in front of a lady.’
Flora released a held breath and smiled in thanks at Hersch.
‘You bloody vultures!’ Crowe spat as the door closed on the two crewmen. ‘I may have taken the money, but I didn’t kill the man!’
‘Language, Crowe,’ Hersch warned, tugging down the front of his jacket as he relaxed back into his seat.
‘Look,’ Crowe rubbed both palms back and forth along his thighs, ‘I admit I was angry at having lost so much money to Parnell on the first night. It might have been small change to him, but to me – well, sums like that don’t come easily. I followed him back to his cabin, hung about outside and smoked a cigarette. I had no firm plan then, but needed to think.’
‘Go on,’ Hersch prompted.
‘The Gilmores walked by while I was standing there. Then Parnell went into that companion’s room.’
‘Hester Smith?’ Flora blurted. ‘He went inside? Are you sure?’
Hersch cast her a brief sideways look that demanded silence, and Bunny gave a low hiss.
‘Sorry,’ Flora muttered, annoyed to be silenced like a child when she was the one who had fought to get anyone to believe her? Especially Bunny.
‘Actually, no, I’m not certain it was Hester’s.’ Crowe’s knuckles whitened on the chair arms and he blinked as if confused. ‘Gilmore said he saw Parnell going into the old woman’s suite, so maybe it was hers. Whichever it was, when he came out again he went into Miss Lane’s stateroom. I didn’t get that wrong, because she came to the door in her night things.’ Crowe snorted. ‘Quite pally, they were too.’
‘You didn’t mention that detail in your original account of that night,’ Hersch observed.
‘I was hardly going to admit I was hanging about outside Parnell’s cabin, was I?’ His laugh was harsh and bitter. ‘I wasn’t certain the Gilmores saw me either, but as it turns out they hadn’t.’
‘Then what did you do?’ Captain Gates asked.
Crowe slid a sly look at Flora and away again. ‘I assumed Parnell and Miss Lane would be together for the rest of the night. I waited for a bit, then went into Parnell’s cabin.’
‘You broke in?’ Officer Martin asked.
‘It wasn’t locked.’ Crowe shrugged.
‘Parnell had stashed a wedge of banknotes in a shoe in the bottom of the wardrobe. Far more than he had won at the card game, so I—’ he broke off and ran a shaky hand through his hair, making it stick up in greasy spikes.
‘What happened then?’ the captain asked.
‘Well I-I took the money of course.’ Crowe threw up both hands to convey that anyone would have done the same thing.
‘I gather something went wrong?’ Hersch prompted.
‘It certainly did.’ Crowe’s eyes sharpened in recollection and he glared again at Flora. ‘Parnell came back. I opened the door to leave and there he was. He looked as shocked as me.’
Flora squeezed closer to Bunny, growing increasingly uncomfortable beneath his hard glare, as if he blamed her for his plans going awry.
‘What did you do?’ Hersch’s voice had dropped as he offered gentle prompts.
Now Crowe had begun telling his story he didn’t look inclined to stop.
‘What do you think? He attacked me. I threw a punch, and we scuffled for a bit. I thought he was stunned when he hit his head on the washbasin in the bathroom.’ He gave a short, cynical laugh. ‘I’m surprised no one heard the noise. I tell you I acted in self-defence, so you can’t pin any murder on me.’
‘What about the ashtray?’ Flora asked. ‘The one you hit him with.’
‘What ashtray?’ Crowe stared at her in accusation. ‘No, I told you. He hit his head on the washbasin.’
Flora resolved not to speak again. Not because Hersch or the captain kept looking at her, but because Crowe did. And his stare was almost painful.
‘It stands to reason you needed to get rid of the body,’ Hersch said gently. ‘Is that when you threw him down the companionway?’
‘No! I didn’t throw him anywhere. That’s not how it went!’ Crowe’s eyes flashed with anger and a tiny bead of spittle appeared on his lower lip. ‘I left him lying on the stateroom floor – alive! The next morning, when Dr Fletcher said he had died in a fall, I-well I kept quiet.’ His thin lips curled into a sneer, as if congratulating himself on his ingenuity at having turned the situation to his advantage. Then he turned a burning gaze on Flora. ‘Everyone believed me, except you, Miss Busybody Governess.’ His voice lowered to a hiss.
The sound brought back a half-buried moment of clarity for Flora.
‘It was you!’ She gasped. ‘You threatened me outside the dining room!’ She watched Crowe’s face prepare for denial, but realizing he was found out, turned it into a sly grin. ‘You locked Eddy in the darkroom as well didn’t you?’
Bunny issued a sharp protest which trailed off in a growl. For a split second, he looked as if he might launch himself at Crowe, but was held back by a quick, hard look from Captain Gates.
Flora’s chest tightened at the thought of these last wakeful nights, afraid for both herself and Eddy due to this insipid little man. She clenched her fists in her lap to prevent her leaping up to slap him.
‘It wasn’t deliberate, and only meant to frighten you off.’ Crowe fidgeted in his chair, tension drawing furrows in his brow. ‘I saw him wander away on his own and go down into the hold. The key was in the door and I locked it on impulse. I would never have hurt you or the lad.’
‘Pity we didn’t know that at the time,’ Flora said, though something told her Crowe was holding something back. What did he think she knew?
‘Look’ – temper flared in Crowe’s eyes – ‘I robbed Parnell. I hold my hands up to that, but his death was an accident.’
‘Even if you were correct,’ Hersch said, ‘and Mr Parnell had somehow managed to stagger to that companionway in search of assistance, and fallen, that still makes you guilty of manslaughter.’ He let the information sink in, before asking, ‘Why did you kill Miss Lane?’
‘I didn’t kill her!’ Crowe’s head jerked up, his eyes frantic. ‘I had no reason to want her dead.’
‘Miss Lane’s stateroom was next door to Parnell’s. Maybe she heard you fighting with him and threatened to reveal your part in his death?’ Hersch said. ‘Or perhaps,’ he went on when Crowe failed to answer, ‘you and Miss Lane came to an agreement?’
‘Did she suggest you share the haul with her in return for silence?’ Hersch’s words fell into the heavy silence.
‘Eloise saw you arguing with Seaman Crofts,’ Flora said, incredulous, recalling Crowe’s start of fear in the staircase lobby. ‘She saw you through the window and guessed what you had done.’
The blood left Crowe’s face until his complexion resembled milk. ‘She-she badgered me about the money, said she knew I had got it and wanted her share. She agreed not to stir things up if I split it with her when we reached London. That the situation would suit us both.’ He pinned Flora with a pleading stare. ‘When I saw you and Eloise coming out of the powder room the other night, I thought she had told you about our – arrangement. I’m no killer. Especially not a woman or a kid!’ ‘I had to make sure you’d keep quiet until we docked. I meant to scare you, that’s all.’
Crowe fisted his hands and brought them down on his knees. Then the next thing I know, she’s dead. That shook me, I can tell you.’ He directed a panicked look at Hersch, then the captain. ‘I swear I didn’t kill Eloise. I had no reason to.’
‘I tend to disagree.’ Hersch said, his eyes hard. ‘You had no intention of splitting that money with her, so picked your moment and got rid of her. When you knocked on her stateroom door that afternoon I imagine she let you inside in all innocence.’
‘That’s not what happened, I-’
‘You can tell your story to a judge, Crowe.’ Hersch cut him off. Had his moustache been long and curly, Flora imagined he would have twirled it. ‘You’ll remain confined to your stateroom until we reach London. There you’ll be handed over to the authorities.’
He strode to the door, beckoning to the sailors who stood sentry outside. The pair marched into the room and arranged themselves on either side of Crowe.
‘Aren’t you forgetting something?’ Crowe rose shakily to his feet, but summoned enough defiance to shrug off the sailor’s hold. ‘I didn’t commit any crime in England, we were in international waters.’ The sailor refused to be beaten and grabbed his arm again, shoving it firmly behind his back while the second sailor secured his other arm. Crowe struggled between them, his shin caught the table and rattled the crockery, but he was held fast.
‘On an American-owned ship,’ Hersch reminded him. ‘I imagine the British will send you straight back to New York to stand trial.’
‘We’ll see about that!’ Crowe threw them all a final sour look, but the fight seemed to have gone out of him and he offered no further protest as the sailors shoved him out the door.
‘Good work, Hersch.’ Captain Gates tugged down his jacket, his habitual smile firmly in place as he swung his head towards the sofa where Bunny sat with Flora. ‘I’ll see you later at dinner then. Miss Maguire, Mr Harrington.’ He replaced his cap, touching the peak in salute on his way out. ‘Is that all it was?’ Flora asked, mildly disappointed as the door flapped shut. ‘A fight over money which resulted in the death of a man?’
‘Which, as you may recall, was my first theory,’ Bunny said.
‘You don’t have to be so smug about it.’ Still uneasy, Flora chewed her bottom lip. ‘I’m still not convinced that Mr Crowe stabbed Eloise.’
‘She was blackmailing him,’ Bunny added, as if that explained everything.
‘He’s an unpleasant thief, but I believed him when he said he was no murderer. Parnell attacked him first, and Crowe defended himself. Eloise was a tiny thing and easily overpowered. Are you asking me to believe he brought a knife to her cabin with that in mind?’ She shook her head. ‘I don’t accept that.’
However it explained why Eloise had been so calm, almost happy during that morning during the storm. It had occurred to Flora at the time that she had lied to Flora about Parnell’s cabin being empty and had found the photograph. With that safe and the money from Parnell in the offing, sh
e must have believed this had solved her problems. Then why was she killed?
‘Don’t give the man too much credit, Miss Maguire.’ Hersch rocked on his heels, a self-satisfied grin on his face. ‘Killers often become more violent if they think they have got away with one murder. They invariably maintain their innocence to the end too.’
Flora searched for something that might make a dent in his self-confidence, then something occurred to her he hadn’t yet answered. ‘Apart from Eloise’s stateroom, where else did he go that night? Mrs Penry-Jones’ or Hester’s?’
‘I don’t see that it matters now.’ Hersch swept a biscuit from the plate in front of him and bit into it.
‘Or it could matter a lot,’ Flora murmured. ‘Eloise lied about Parnell having argued with her that night.’ She tapped her top lip with a finger. ‘Who else was lying? Crowe or Gerald Gilmore?’
‘My money’s on Crowe.’ Bunny followed Hersch’s example and took a biscuit too, chewing thoughtfully.
‘Maybe neither of them.’ Hersch brushed crumbs from his jacket. ‘It was the first night, so perhaps no one was sure about whose cabin was whose.’
‘We need to find out.’ Panic lifted Flora’s voice an octave. ‘We dock at Tilbury in two days, after which everyone will disappear into their own lives and you’ll never catch him.’ Her stomach knotted at the thought that whoever had done such a terrible thing to Eloise might escape justice.
‘This affair has been an ordeal for you, Flora.’ Hersch rose to his feet, held out both arms and shot his cuffs, apparently pleased with himself. ‘I hope you can put it behind you and relax for what remains of the voyage.’ He gave her shoulder a fatherly pat before following the captain out.
‘Well that made for an interesting afternoon.’ Bunny tucked a hand beneath her elbow and drew her to her feet. ‘How much of it should we reveal to the rest of the company at dinner do you suppose?’
‘None of it.’ Flora hooked her bag over one arm and straightened her skirt. ‘We’ll let Hersch do that, I’m notorious enough as it is. Did you happen to notice that at no point did our detective or the captain reveal that Frank Parnell and Eloise Lane weren’t their real names?’
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